


Once Upon a December

by retikrit



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: First Kiss, M/M, Misunderstandings, Post-Time Skip, Reunions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-25
Updated: 2020-01-28
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:15:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22403965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/retikrit/pseuds/retikrit
Summary: He knew this place, he’d simply forgotten how to mourn.
Relationships: My Unit | Byleth/Claude von Riegan
Comments: 8
Kudos: 126





	1. Chapter 1

The moon still gleamed the same way.

As the memories slowly came back, Byleth wondered how he ever could have forgotten. He took small, silents steps, rediscovering the monastery, once again. Ironically, he’s gotten used to wandering through places he couldn’t properly identify, but felt all too familiar with. It was the stones, the sound of feet echoing on the cobblestone paths, the running around, every corner, door, column.

He knew this place, he’d simply forgotten how to mourn.

He wandered, instincts taking over. It was too quiet, and too loud, all the time. It was late now, the feast was probably nearing its end. The corridors were silent. None of the guards were even pretending to patrol, after all it was mostly still an abandoned area and the bandits wouldn’t dare get close now.

It all led him to the stairs. He had stopped in front of them, thinking. He had never used those before. Something held him back, but something else was yelling at him to just go up already and explore.

He wasn’t one to think through carefully contrary to popular belief, and had always trusted his guts more anything. His lucky star had long been gone but it only served to galvanize in him a certain recklessness he didn’t know he had. He supposes the passing of years should have made him wiser, but he didn’t feel any different. Only a muted frustration over a fate that continues to confuse him.

First step isn’t the hardest one, it’s all the others that come after. But this night none of it feels hard.

His hand touches the walls, getting the feel of it as he discovers the final last part of the monastery. Maybe it’s regret, sorrow, bitterness, or even nostalgia that now inhabits the ancient constructions all around. Maybe it’s Byleth’s biased opinions, clouded by his own emotions. 

It’s under the moonlight that Byleth walks upon Rhea’s private balcony, as an adult. The breeze is agreeable but what takes his breath away is the silhouette of another person, standing there.

They don’t seem to have noticed Byleth’s presence yet. No one ever really does, so it is merely anecdotal.

Byleth approaches with catlike steps, eventually identifying the possible intruder. How ironic, considering they’re both intruders in this particular scenario.

Byleth consciously decides to remain quiet for another few minutes, taking time to look more closely at the other man’s face expression. One that, he supposes, was never meant to be seen. It brings him sadness in a way, but how or why are mysteries he has yet to solve.

In the end he needn’t make his presence known as Claude sighs at some point, shaking his head lightly before jumping out of his skin, suppressing what could have been a high pitched scream.

“Wow, hey there friend!” His face show signs of nervousness, Byleth notes. “I truly don’t know how you’re still able to do that, or if I’ll ever get used to it!” He exclaims, some false cheerfulness within.

Byleth shrugs, not having an answer to either questions. He proceeds to take a few steps forward, the physical need to close the distance stronger than usual.

Claude chuckles, if it surprises him to see his teacher so bold he doesn’t show it. Now that the adrenaline of being caught off guard wears down, he adopts a way more casual pose hands on his hips. A contemplative sigh passes his lips. “I must say, for all the times I wondered what could be lying between those forbidden doors, I find myself quite underwhelmed now. Not that the balcony is anything but gorgeous, I simply…” He pauses, head slowly turning, taking in all the atmosphere of the former archbishop's private quarters, “I suppose I expected something more… godly? I am sorry, I’m afraid I don’t make much sense, do I?”

Byleth is quiet, himself searching through memory for forgotten expectations he might have had of this place. Unfortunately he once more cannot recall, or simply never put much thought into. The void inside of him growls once more, calling him. Nothingness he realizes, might be his biggest opponent so far.

He breathes in, not directly at Claude but still in his general direction. “I guess reality is often underwhelming.” He says, half believing that either.

It’s Claude’s turn to remain quiet for longer than his usual silences.

The dead of night almost swallows them both, lost in thought.

As always Claude is the one to bring warmth into it. “I meant to ask sooner, but how did you find yourself here? Isn’t the party of your taste?”

Byleth can’t help but chuckle, eyes locking with Claude. He looks downright surprised for a second, but even Byleth knows this isn’t the first time he’s displayed this kind of amusement. He finds it endearing somehow, that Claude cherishes it all the same. “I think I should be the one asking, my dearest student.” His smile grows fond, memories finally appearing to him, slowly, happy, welcoming. “You like parties, maybe more than any other students.”

He looks away, seeing again all those happy faces, bodies dancing, laughter heard through the entirety of the monastery. “And you were the one…” He thinks he touches upon an important thing but suddenly his mind blanks. All he can remember is Claude, somehow, and the warmth that spreads through his cheeks and where his heart should be beating.

Now all is cold, and so was the party when he left it, maybe half an hour ago now. He shakes his head. “However, that must have been quite some time ago for you. I shouldn’t rule the possibility that you-”

His eyes had begun looking for Claude’s, but he only now the notices the hand out stretched. Clearly inviting him for a dance. He closes his mouth instantly, and without much hesitation accepts the invitation.

He had led then, he suddenly remembers. Claude had done the same thing, and Byleth as his professor had led him. Claude now holds on his waist, grounding him, offering him all the support he needs. 

His playful grin remained the same Byleth notes. “Well, it’d be lying if I said feasts and parties no longer rank high on my lists of priorities. I must also admit tonight’s celebration wasn’t entirely to my taste either.”

That piques Byleth’s curiosity. He knows Claude will read it on his face, somehow. They have both mastered reading each other thoughts a long time ago.

“I have been… troubled.” He confesses, almost too quietly but still dancing fervently. “Oh, boring stuff. Though I know you’d scold me for calling that in such manner.”

Byleth expects him to continue but he stops there, gaze lost somewhere. They dance silently.

They dance, and Byleth feels like fool for his earlier statement. Lately and for probably quite some time already, reality hasn’t felt underwhelming to him. Claude’s hands, the light of the stars, their short breaths mingling into one, it is all overwhelming in a way he isn’t prepared for. He’s never had much of an imagination, meaning he can’t be disappointed very easily. That also means, he never took time to explore what his own happiness might feel like, in the privacy of his mind, or what his desires and fears might be. 

He’s never let himself be free, not completely. Or tried to imagine a world where he could feel in control of his own life, not merely a puppet of some destiny. He’s never imagined what it might be like, doing unreasonable things, just to satisfy a need, and not care about the consequences. He’s never imagined Claude, slowly ending the dance, burring his face between Byleth’s neck and shoulder. 

He finds himself overwhelmed. He wonders if there’s a script for that too.

Is everyone else’s heart as loud as Claude’s?

“How unfair, friend, that I give up calling you my teacher but you still address me like a student.”

There’s a humorless laugh, and hands tightening on Byleth’s party clothes.

Perhaps it is the cold making them feel irrational, or the fact that Byleth can’t see his face anymore, but Claude keeps going, earnest and honest.

“The truth is, I have doubted you. More than once. Pitiful, right? Can’t even be loyal to the one person who’s treated me with all the kindness and respect I’ve longed for all my life. There were nights, I was persuaded you wouldn’t come back. Those were the loneliest nights of all.” He sighs. “But now you’re back, and I don’t even know if that’s better. I am like a bow string, stretched and stretched until my limit, and then I saw you and I…”

Byleth raises his hands in Claude’s back, until they find a comfortable spot and stay there, holding on tighter.

Byleth has a lot of emotions, he’s simply never been taught he should act on them.

With Claude, nestled there, he realizes he has much to learn even off the battlefield. His fierce need to protect is greater than ever, and he can finally call that burning feeling whenever his gaze meets Claude’s yearning.

It’s almost instinct now, caring for Claude.

The emotion in his voice surprises Byleth himself. “You don’t have to be alone anymore.”

Claude sniffles, and Byleth gets this horrible feeling in his stomach that always settles whenever he sees or feels Claude being sad. It is not a pleasant one.

With practiced ease, he pulls away, until Claude’s face no longer rest on him, and cradles it gently with his hands.

Byleth’s never seen him cry, he’s certain of it. Claude must realizes this too, looking rather ashamed, eyes on the floor. “Sorry…” He mutters, voice weak.

Byleth wipes the remaining of a tear with his thumb, gently. “Claude.” That gets him to look up, a delightful surprise and happiness in his eyes. “You’ve been strong, all this time,” he says with a fondness he only now discovers. “now share some of that burden you seem to carry with each of your steps.” He smiles in a way that he hopes is reassuring, but filled with too much longing to be called only friendly. “With me.”

Claude’s own smile is shy, but there nonetheless. Some weight seems to lift off his shoulders, body language opening up even more.

“Byleth…” He whispers, as if testing the name on his tongue, to himself. “Byleth… I…” He laughs, but it’s small and guarded. “This is ridiculous, even now you… How or can I even ever repay you?” He sounds breathless, and for a second Byleth himself forgets to breathe.

In this confusing world, and even more ever since his coma-like episode, Claude has always been Byleth’s own beacon, a trusted companion, and even someone to discover new things with. Byleth feels blessed in his own way, to have Claude in his life to convince him to get to work each and every new day. There is no way Claude is ignorant to how important and helpful he is to Byleth.

“I think you already know how.” Byleth whispers back, a concealed smirk on his lips. And he thinks, this is good. Emotions, good or bad, lack of imagination or not, he can learn it all, and make it a pleasant journey with Claude to follow him with every step.

For a second, he thinks Claude falls in agreement with these thoughts, his face impossibly tender as they look into each other’s souls. Then comes the unexpected, under the form of soft, chapped lips against his own.

Not much about it is extraordinary, Byleth notes. His logical brain informs him of the situation, the very physical aspect of it all. His emotional brain flashes him images of all the times he’s seen his students kiss, the connotations, his father’s intonation as he explains what two very in love people are supposed to do.

He fails to create an adequate reaction, Claude pulls away as quickly as he pulled in.

Something akin to shame and hurt in his expression.

Byleth is still frozen.

Claude nervously scratches his neck, in a failing attempt at seeming casual. “Oh uh, I messed that up didn’t I? Silly me, right?”

And just like that, their intimacy from minutes earlier vanishes into thin air, with it Claude’s vulnerability. “Oh well, isn’t it getting cold out there? Probably bed time too.”

Byleth realizes Claude is going to escape. He simply doesn’t know how to stop him, or if he should. His mind won’t cooperate nor give him answers.

“I’ll take my leave then,” he says, as if his feet weren’t itching to run for it and not turn back “good night, teach!” He gets away, more forceful than usual.

Clumsy.

Byleth brings his fingers to his lips, where Claude’s own had previously been. And for an agonizing second, he almost can feel his heart beat, for the first time of his life.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ;D

Claude is, quite literally, all over the place.

Byleth’s daily visits of the cathedral become almost scheduled, in the late morning. He takes breaks even more often now, rearranging his thoughts whenever he can. He hasn’t told anyone, but each time he catches the sight of one of his former students he has to take two entire minutes to convince himself this isn’t a ghost, nor a dream.

He gets back in training, but spaces out more often he used to.

Consciously or not, he goes less to the dining hall. His appetite not only drops but adopts a new rhythm, completely off balance.

War meetings, as they are soon called, don’t gather much people yet. The effort goes mainly to rebuilding and sending messengers all across Fodlan. Nothing is knocking at their doors yet and it’s hard to feel any kind of urgency, ghosts of the past suddenly appearing or not.

That is why not meeting Claude there isn’t much of a surprise. Byleth decides there’s no use of him here if Claude isn’t here too, and leaves a bit too early.

He catches the sight of Claude at some other places in the monastery, giving out orders as easy as breathing, being the leader and unwavering figure of authority everyone expects him to be. Byleth watches from afar. They don’t cross paths.

He finds the time to talk to each of his former students, appreciating the small bits of normalcy that comes it.

Hearing all those stories is delightful in a way he’s growing more accustomed to. That helps him fill the void inside, and silence the dreams of white dragon and bloodshed. He is offered to occupy Rhea’s chamber in her absence, despite Cyril’s insistence he shouldn’t. But on those blessed or cursed floors the ghosts are louder, lifetimes that don’t belong to him, but are in him now.

He refuses, and take possession of his old room once again.

He spaces out. If things were confusing before, he doesn’t dare putting words on how he feels now. He longs for a friendly hand to hold him, before he gets stuck in time, or flies to the stars. Stories are fulfilling, and he forces himself to narrate in his head all the events of the last week. Rearranging details, forgetting bits. Make that mess make sense. He shuts his eyes.

Stories are good, but none of them can compare to the ones Claude fills his ears with.

And three agonizing days after the feast, Byleth has to entertain the idea that Claude somehow had made deliberate choices to avoid being in the same room as Byleth. In other words avoiding him.

Claude said he messed up, but Byleth is starting if he wasn’t the one to make a mistake. He must have done something wrong, for Claude to finally use his schemes against Byleth and go for the cruelest hit: removing himself for his daily life.

The fourth day’s morning when the birds sings Byleth can once again walk in confident strides. Breakfast is not going to be served anytime soon, but that doesn’t stop him from slipping into the kitchen unnoticed to grab something.

He sees Felix there, literal hand caught in the bag. They stare at each other, thinking at the same time this is a very forbidden thing to do and Byleth being the responsible one should scold Felix. But another second, and they both reach the conclusion Byleth can’t reasonably scold a student for doing the very same thing he was about to do. They keep staring at each other, and Byleth brings a finger to his lips, knowing Felix will catch on. This shall never be discussed again.

Stomach full and morning air filling his lungs, Byleth goes for a walk outside the monastery. He doesn’t wear his armor, but holds firmly a training sword in his hand.

He vaguely recalls another outing nearby this place. His feet know where to go.

The soft glow of the morning clashes with the stars of his memories. He went stargazing here. They almost didn’t make it in time in their dorms, with how much they talked. But Byleth doesn’t remember talking, just listening. Because the other person, who asked him to go stargazing, it was

Claude. He stands right there as if he saw a ghost. Byleth smirks, finally roles getting reversed. Once again the surprise effect wears off pretty quickly, a new poker face adorning Claude’s face. “Oh, hey hm, hey!” He is dressed more casually than his war’s outfit, but not too casual either. Byleth stares at him, the way he knows people find uncomfortable. “To be completely honest, I didn’t think you’d find me here. Or that you’d be looking me for me.” He clears his throat. “Anyway, something happened? What did you need to tell me, that you obviously spent so much time to find me?”

Byleth shrugs, crossing the distance between them. “You didn’t want me to find you.” He throws his sword at Claude for him to catch, which he does a bit clumsily. “Did you?”

Claude looks rather abashed, the reality of his actions thrown back at him. Whatever he might say will sound like a weak excuse or the confirmation of Byleth’s statement. It doesn’t surprise him when he changes subject altogether. “If there’s an attack, you do know better than give me a sword to protect myself.”

Byleth draws his own dagger, steeling himself for combat. “Let’s spar.”

To an untrained eye, Claude might seem to have a consequential advantage, but they both know better.

Claude hesitates, handling the sword as if he were only discovering it. “Is this… an execution perhaps?” His faces does a funny thing that Byleth can’t read before it switches back to another facade. “If I truly have gone too far that much, you know I would have appreciated a warning before my imminent death!”

And no warning is what he gets before Byleth swiftly lands his first blow, blade stopping before it can touch Claude’s clothes and rip it. Said man stumbles back and falls on his ass.

Byleth’s brain catches up. “Clue me in, are you referring to that night?”

Claude physically winces at its mere mention. “Ah yes, perhaps. And I suppose apologies are in order, if you intend to let me live long enough.” Byleth offers him a hand, that Claude eventually reluctantly accepts and gets back up on his feet. “Very well,” he says, resigned “but first allow me to be selfish and ask you something first.” He looks at Byleth with nothing but hope in his eyes, and Byleth eagerly nods.

There is a long pause. Byleth is starting to think this conversation is about to delve into something much different than what he intented.

“Okay,” he breathes out. The courage finally built up enough to speak again. “then please tell me you don’t hate me. A bit childish I know, but please, I just need to know you don’t hate me, I …-” He shuts his eyes, like it physically pains him to simply have to contemplate the possibility Byleth doesn’t love him.

Byleth doesn’t understand. “I could never hate you.” Not much makes sense in this world, but that much he is certain of. How could Claude ever doubt it? “I could never hate you.” He repeats, be it for his own sake or Claude’s.

Seeing the pure look of relief on Claude’s features is almost worth the misunderstanding. “Oh. Yeah of course, I mean. Yeah. Oh.”

Byleth sheathes back the dagger. “And if you must know, I took offense.” He frowns, punctuating his words.

The whiplash is almost physical for Claude. His shoulders square and his eyes unintentionally let the fear deep in Claude show.

Byleth’s own voice is a bit strangled. “I… I said…” Words frustrates him. “I told you I’d be there for you, and I guess I…” he clenches his fist, “I guess I took for granted you’d always be there for me too.” then, quieter, “I don’t want to be alone.” He sighs, shaking his head lightly. “I took offense you didn’t feel the need to tell me you needed space for yourself. We are closer than that.”

Claude’s eyes widen, mouth agape but no words coming out. He looks at Byleth intently, expecting or maybe hoping for something else but it never comes. He blinks rapidly, the thoughts in his head running even faster than usual. “I thought you’d need the space too…” He says rather dejectedly.

Byleth frowns. “Is it the kiss we’re talking about?”

Claude seems to suddenly find the ground very interesting. “We don’t have to talk about it.”

Byleth chuckles. “Well obviously, as you’ve made it clear for the last couple days.”

Claude’s own laugh is performative, he scratches his neck. “I never actually apologized for that did I? I’m sorry, that was probably another selfish impulse of mine.”

Byleth hums, uncomfortable scrutiny back. Then like a lion to prey, something changes, he hurries to close the distance between him and Claude.

Claude takes a step back.

Byleth takes another step forward.

Claude takes another step back.

And on and on until his back hits a tree. If there exists a man in Fodlan able to get him cornered, it’s no surprise that man turns out to be Byleth. 

His hands raise almost menacing, but all they do is take Claude’s, and bring it where his heart should be beating. Byleth brings their foreheads together.

Claude’s sharp intake of breath is the signal that he realizes what Byleth wanted him to know.

No heartbeat.

Claude opens his mouth, but Byleth beats him to it. “It’s always been that way.” He whispers, but their impossible closeness makes it impossible for Claude to miss it. “Dorothea lent me a book once. A true lover’s kiss. It ignites something.” Claude breath stops. “You did something to me that night.” He says, ever so softly. “I want to feel it again.”

Tentatively, he pulls away to look at Claude in the eyes. The other man looks dazed, under some kind of spell. Byleth squeezes where their hands are intertwined. “Tell me to stop.”

But Claude is speechless.

Byleth kisses him, slowly, remembering all the details of their previous and first kiss.

He pulls away.

Claude pulls in, chasing his lips.

They remain rather chaste, lips on lips, drinking in all the new sensations.

One, two, five minutes later or more they stop to look at each other. Claude’s smile is a bit childish, but tainted with undeniable fondness. Byleth can only guess he is wearing the same look.

They get lost in the moment, but eventually Byleth’s internal clock informs him they are most probably late for breakfast. Not long after, they return to the monastery in comfortable silence.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading!!


End file.
